Recommendations
by jazwriter
Summary: This is slightly AU where Andy was never Miranda's assistant. After Irv's failed coup in Paris, he hires a publishing consultant where Andy works in order to force Miranda to cut down on costs. Mirandy Femslash, 5 parts. See A/N. Posted on LJ previously.
1. How it all started

**Recommendations**

This was a story for the Pakistan charity delivered to the winning bidder, Peetsden, last year. I think it is great that she donated to a worthy cause. I posted this on LiveJournal previously.

**Prompt**:

Irv Ravitz is the bane of Miranda's existence and constantly harping on costs. Sooo... Miranda is trapped (given the Paris incident) with holding down costs on the all important _September Issue_ - her hallmark for the year. Irv hires a publishing consultant (one without any publishing experience in fashion and seemingly without any interest in fashion) and in walks Andy to Miranda's world. Hear Miranda gnashing her teeth. Andy's mission - hold costs down at all costs (no pun intended). Bonus points if Irv gets his in the end.

**Thanks** to quiethearted, akasarahsmom (GinStan), and the thefutilitarian for helping me with the plot points. Their suggestions helped immensely.

**Betas**: quiethearted, sheknowsnofear, shesgottaread whipped this story into shape. I am extremely thankful that they were willing to review this story and provide feedback/guidance/protection against totally embarrassing myself with silly errors. So, I tip my hat to them.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anyone in this story and am not profiting in any way. I also do not own a Porsche Boxster Spyder roadster (pity, I know).

**Author's Notes**: This is AU in that Andy never worked for Miranda, she is several years older (I'm thinking late 20's), and she has some fashion sense. Oh, also, the story takes place after Paris (as well as after Irv's attempt to dethrone our Queen of Fashion).

* * *

><p><em>How it all started<em>

"I'm sure you are wondering why I called a meeting this early on a Monday morning, so let me get to the point." A short, portly gentleman with receding hairline, double chin, and wiry eyeglasses perched on his nose, Irv Ravitz, CEO of Elias-Clarke Publishing stood at the front end of the conference room while the administrators, editors, and managerial staff for the various Elias-Clarke publications sat silently. "I realize that I sound like a broken record about the budgetary constraints, but the numbers don't lie. The economy has hit everyone hard, and we have not escaped its wrath. Revenue is down—"

"Really, Irving, we are hardly in the red. Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me," Miranda drawled as several of the _Runway_ department heads smiled wryly.

Miranda and Irv's disagreements were legendary. She always got her way, though, simply because _Runway_ was, by far, the most profitable of all the Elias-Clarke publications. In fact, it remained one of the most profitable publications in the world, thanks mostly to Miranda's firm hand at the helm.

"If you take a look at page three where the budget detail itemizing our profit and loss figures for the last five years are and compare them to the results for this quarter's figures, you will clearly see that we have lost money in the advertising and sales sections, although our costs have not reduced to balance out such losses," Irv continued in an even voice while flipping through the packet his assistant had disseminated to everyone when they had arrived at the meeting.

Nigel Kipling raised his hand politely. At Irv's nod, Miranda's right-hand man said, "I notice page seven reflects that _Runway_ is still in the number one spot against our competitors by a long shot. We are grossing nearly twenty percent more than everyone else. That's the best lead we've had in years. Although revenue's down, it is obviously much worse at the other publications."

"True. That's a very good point, Nigel. Miranda's leadership as _Runway_'s Editor-in-Chief has undeniably placed us at the front of the pack. However, I am not concerned with the other publications' cash flow. With less advertising and sales down, we must spend less. It's that simple." Irv stared at Miranda. "To that end, Elias-Clarke has hired a publishing consultant firm, Spring & Company, to determine where we can cut corners, stream-line production, and best utilize our staff." Irv swung one arm toward the door as it opened to admit several individuals. "Ah, yes, come in, come in."

Two men and three women crowded next to Irv, calmly looking about the room. Miranda seemed indifferent, yet her eyes blazed. Nigel shifted in his seat while his gaze leapt from person to person in a ceaseless loop. The other department heads fidgeted.

"This is Tom Spring and his associates. They are here to assess _Runway_ and our other magazines for the next three weeks. Then, they will present us with a business plan focusing on how we can best use our resources while cutting unnecessary costs. Tom, why don't you provide us with more details." Irv sat down, a small smirk evident as he glanced at Miranda.

"Good morning, everyone," Tom began. He wore an ill-fitting, mismatched blazer which bulged in the back and pin-striped slacks—obviously part of a business suit—with a stark white shirt that washed out his face. "We are looking forward to finding ways to help you capitalize on your talent, time, and workforce without wasting money. To that end throughout the next three weeks, my associates and I shall be observing how your organization runs. Some of the changes we suggest we will be able to implement immediately, while others will take time, effort, and planning. All our suggestions will be submitted in writing. After this week, we will provide a preliminary report of the changes that can be implemented immediately. At the end of the three weeks, we will provide another report encompassing more significant changes. Finally, we will provide support and reevaluations every month for six months."

Tom introduced his associates, mentioning where each person would be observing. Miranda took special interest in the brunette assigned to _Runway_.

"We will be assessing your strengths and weaknesses, identifying problem areas, and indicating likely solutions by reviewing the structure of your organization, the quality of staffing, your financial resources, market position, and the processes used to produce an issue." Tom paused, looking around the table. No one seemed thrilled. "I know that you may feel we are invading your turf, telling you what to do when we are not a part of your company. However, you need an objective, unbiased third-party. Our only agenda is to strengthen you, to help you become more profitable."

Irv stood up. "I expect all of you to cooperate fully." He stared hard at Miranda, who stared back just as forcefully. With a wave of his hand and a smirk, Irv said, "That's all." All cringed as Miranda's signature words were used against her.  
>_<p> 


	2. Week 1

Week 1

Miranda sat at her desk, her gaze thoughtful as she listened to Andrea Sachs, infiltrator, speak to her assistants. Miranda smirked at the snippy tone of her first assistant, Emily Charlton. A high-strung, thin redhead, Emily had proven her loyalty to _Runway_ and to Miranda over the past two years. Obviously, she did not take kindly to the consulting firm's intrusion.

Andy had introduced herself to Miranda as soon as the meeting had adjourned: "Hi, Ms. Priestly. My name is Andy Sachs. Andrea, but, uh, everybody calls me Andy." Miranda did not take the extended hand. Andy had dropped it to her side quickly. "Well, um, I'll be observing you for the next few days." Andy's face had reddened as Miranda had stared at her as if she were a particularly vile bug. "So, um, I'd like to ask you some questions." Andy had looked down at her notes and flipped a page. "When do you—"

"Please bore someone else with your questions," Miranda had intoned and turned her chair to face the windows.

"Right. Okay." Andy had left Miranda's office.

Miranda soon heard Emily directing Andy to call Miranda by her first name. "She hates to be called Ms. Priestly, and God knows I don't intend to bear the brunt of your stupidity."

For the rest of the day, Andy watched, questioned, and wrote copious notes.

Andy wore a taupe Ann Taylor pantsuit with a coral cotton button-down shirt—not terrible, but certainly off-the-rack, untailored, and uninspired. It was only Andy's long dark hair and chocolate eyes that saved the ensemble.

"Emily." Once Emily was before Miranda's desk, she looked up. A flicker of annoyance raced across her face when she noticed Andy shadowing. "Where is the new girl? No, no. Never mind. She's fired. Go to Calvin Klein to pick up ten, no, fifteen skirts. Then, coffee." A pause. "Why are you still here?"

Emily practically ran out of the office, Andy right behind her. Emily huffed. "Must you nip at my heels?"

"I'm sorry, but part of evaluating—"

"Stop!" Emily placed a hand on her forehead briefly while shaking her head. "Make sure you keep up."

By the end of the day, Andy's chirpy smile had wilted. She sat at the now-empty second assistant's desk typing her notes on her laptop. Every so often she would worry her bottom lip or stare at her notes before frantically pounding on the keyboard.

Miranda ignored everything happening in the outer office, keeping her head bent over her desk as she concentrated on the photos spread before her. Yet, every so often she would throw a surreptitious glance at Andy who, after several hours, heaved a sigh and sat back. She looked at the clock and hopped up. "What time will you be here until?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Until the Book is delivered, at which time I will bring it to Miranda at her home so she can review it."

"Oh, uh, when is that?" Andy asked.

"Ten, ten thirty."

Andy gasped. "At night?"

Emily rolled her eyes again.

"Do you even have a life? When do you not work?" Andy asked softly.

"This _is_ my life. You work a year for her, and you can get a job at any magazine you want. A million girls would kill for this job." Emily hissed. "You wouldn't understand. I bet you work nine to five and rail at working a single moment more. Obviously, you make sure not to miss your meals." Andy looked as if Emily had just slapped her across the face.

Before Andy could reply, Miranda swept out of her office. She did not acknowledge Andy in any manner even as she ordered, "Coat. Bag," and Emily hopped up to do her bidding. "Tell Nigel to switch the Coach bags for the Holt. They are more in keeping with the autumn hues. I simply do not understand what he was thinking. This is the September issue, after all." Without another word, Miranda glided out the door.

"Is she always like that?" Andy questioned, her eyes wide.

Emily smirked. "She is a force of nature." She picked up the phone to call Nigel, then paused. Waving her hand in a forward motion, Emily said, "Now, shoo! Unlike you, I have work to do."

* * *

><p>Late Wednesday afternoon, Miranda stood before a rack of clothes, flipping through pieces of various styles with a frown. At the sound of a hiss, Miranda cocked her head. A slight smile crossed her face. Andy and Emily were exchanging heated words in the outer office.<p>

Moments later, Andy entered Miranda's office, taking a moment to gaze at the older woman before announcing herself. Miranda wore a charcoal silk wraparound blouse and camel-colored pencil skirt that highlighted her womanly curves and small waist. Chunky, earth-hued jewelry pulled the colors together. The colors seemed to emphasize the bright, nearly-white hair and milky, flawless skin. Toned legs tapered into Prada heels. Andy sighed before squaring her shoulders. "Miranda."

Turning, Miranda leveled a glare at the younger woman. "Yes?" The word was hardly inviting. Nor was Miranda's demeanor. Andy forged on.

"I will be shadowing you for the rest of the week. I can set up right over there." Andy waved toward the back corner where a low couch and table sat. Miranda's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, opting to nod sharply before crossing to her desk and focusing on an article waiting for her review.

Andy watched the older woman from the corner of her eye while typing this past week's observations into her laptop. After several minutes of silence, Miranda called for Emily.

In a slightly bored voiced, Miranda dictated, "Emily. Have the new girl get my coffee. Remind her it must be hot, not that tepid swill she placed on my desk this morning. Inform Nigel to arrange the shoot for the September issue in Africa—somewhere snowy with a mountain backdrop for the fall and winter lines. Kilimanjaro, Marrakesh, Atlas—I don't really care. As long as it occurs by April. Confirm lunch with James at Serafina and dinner with Donatella at that new French place. Move the preview for Valentino's new line to tomorrow at nine. Tell everyone to be ready to go by eight. That's all."

Emily left to fulfill the newest orders as Andy continued to type her observations. She had witnessed these rapid-fire directives since she had arrived at _Runway_. When Miranda rose to leave for lunch, so did Andy. "You cannot possibly be serious," Miranda said, her eyebrows drawn low over blazing eyes.

"I promise to be as nonintrusive as possible. I won't say a word." Andy and Miranda stared at each other for several moments. Miranda ordered, "Coat. Bag," then strode out the door. Andy followed. And shadowed. Much to Miranda's outrage, she attended the dinner meeting, too.

* * *

><p>Friday morning, Andy sat quietly in Miranda's office during a run-through. "That's not what I asked. I couldn't have been clearer," Miranda said as her employees scrambled to please her. "Why is no one ready?" Miranda eviscerated people with her velvety voice and barbed remarks without pause or remorse. After a particularly cutting remark, Andy made the mistake of gasping in shock.<p>

All movement stopped. Breathing echoed throughout the room. As Miranda turned her head toward Andy, the controlled swivel of her neck, the sweeping of her eyes over Andy's form, the narrowing of dangerous, glittering eyes, even Miranda's haughty stance—all indicated that unpleasant if not devastating remarks were in the immediate future for one Andy Sachs.

"Is there something you'd like to add, Andrea?" Miranda asked in a deceptively mild voice.

"No. No, no. Nothing's—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," Andy said obsequiously, her eyes sliding away.

"Okay. I see. You come in here, judging and writing your little notes on, I don't know, how I communicate with my subordinates, for instance. Acting earnest and sprite-like—although you are in no way devoted or dainty—while deciding what you will change in our organization even though you knew nothing about it last week, and still you know nothing after observing us for a week. Yet you are anxious to please your boss, to find ways to chip away at our budget, to change methods proven to work, not knowing and not caring how you will undermine all that we are. And, no doubt, you will submit a list of recommendations on Monday meant to help, yet they will do the very opposite simply because you are ignorant of everything _Runway_ represents and uninterested in understanding." Miranda took a few items from a rack and handed them to Nigel, never breaking the glare currently directed at Andy.

"Perhaps like Irving you believe that the Internet is killing magazines and that people are no longer interested in reading what is not displayed on a brightly lit screen. Such ignorance," Miranda tsked. "Did instant coffee kill coffee? No, and nor will the Internet kill magazines simply because they do what the Internet doesn't. Magazines are not trapped by the daily news cycle or obsessed with immediacy—magazines promote deeper connections. They create relationships. In fact, magazines remain the number one medium for driving purchase consideration and intent. And that's essential in every product category. Including coffee." Miranda flicked her fingers as she turned away, then delivered one last parting shot.

"I find it comical that you, a poorly dressed girl barely out of her diapers, can presume to suggest how a multibillion-dollar company can become more efficient."

As each insult found its mark, Andy's face became paler and paler, her eyes larger and larger, her body straighter and straighter. By the end of Miranda's diatribe, Andy seemed to shake in her modest Nine West shoes, mortified to be the sole focus of Miranda's viciousness. Andy took little comfort in the looks of empathy from everyone present. Even Nigel, the art director whose droll comments had followed Andy all week, seemed a bit shocked by the sheer savagery unleashed on the normally smiling, albeit clueless brunette.

After several silent moments during which Andy slouched back into the couch as if trying to meld into the leather fabric, Miranda sneered, then turned her back on Andy, effectively dismissing her and the subject. Everyone ignored the pathetic sniffles and muffled sighs while Andy attempted to pull her shredded pride around her, ineffectually shrouding her vulnerability. Those revealing eyes, they said so much. Unable to reestablish her sunny demeanor, her chocolate orbs dulled with hurt and humiliation.

Doggedly, Andy continued to observe Miranda that day. She wore an air of determination and guardedness, not bothering anyone, not looking anyone in the eye, not smiling or speaking or acknowledging or joking with anyone. And everyone noticed.

By the end of the day, Emily watched as Miranda kept flicking glances at their silent observer. Miranda seemed, well not spooked, but unsettled. Without pause, Andy typed and typed and typed her little report. And no one interrupted.


	3. Week 2

Week 2

One week after the publishing consultants were hired, Andy nervously shifted in her seat as Tom began the meeting. "Well, we all know why we are here. After closely observing all aspects of this organization, we have reduced to writing several recommendations to streamline production and best utilize your staff and money. I have reviewed all the reports, and I am happy to say that these recommendations are solid. Most can be implemented immediately."

Tom passed out folders to all seated. In them were copies of the reports which outlined the different impressions his employees had concerning the various aspects of Elias-Clarke publications. Miranda paged through the documents leisurely, her eyes scanning the recommendations for _Runway_.

"You cannot be serious," Miranda said in a low, threatening voice. The temperature dropped as all motion ceased. "Surely this is some ill-advised joke." Miranda threw the folder on the table and stood. "I have a magazine to run."

"If you want to keep running that magazine, you will sit down," Irv said calmly.

Miranda, halfway to the door, stopped and turned slowly to face Irv. "Are you threatening me, Irving?" Her eyes glittered with a fire that no one could miss.

They stared at each other. "Yes." Miranda cocked her head, clearly surprised. "I have the full backing of the board, Miranda. Whether you like it or not, you must follow these recommendations just like all the other editors for all the other publications. You are not exempt just because _Runway_ is the flagship."

"Some of them are utterly ridiculous—" Miranda began before being cut off.

"I disagree. You will try them, really try them, and if there are logistical problems for some of them," Irv shrugged, "those recommendations will be reviewed and adjusted. Don't forget, the more far-reaching changes are still to come. If, instead of fighting this, you become helpful, you may find it to your benefit." Irv looked toward Tom. "Thank you for all you have done so far. These recommendations will be implemented today."

* * *

><p>Miranda sat at her desk shaking her head. Quietly, she enunciated, "Andrea." A moment later, she looked up to see the younger woman standing before her. Miranda narrowed her eyes. "I suppose it never occurred to you to inform me of these recommendations before submitting them to your employer."<p>

Andy's eyes widened in surprise. "Miranda, you know why I'm here. I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't think. That is the problem. These changes may seem simple and logical, but that is due to your utter ignorance of the fashion industry not to mention the responsibilities inherent with managing the number one fashion publication in the world." Miranda sneered. "If you think saving a few dollars by recycling paper and using a coffee maker will make a difference, you are an idiot." The fashion icon began reading from the report, ridicule dripping off each word. "Reduction of subscriptions to periodicals, limitations on business lunches and dinners, no drivers after 7:00 PM unless for special, preapproved functions, personal errands kept to a minimum, maximum twenty hours of overtime allowed for nonexempt employees per week—absurd and unrealistic. Not surprising coming from the smart, fat girl."

Miranda's lips were pulled back in a snarl as her eyes blazed disdain. Without another word, she turned her chair toward the windows, effectively dismissing Andy.

Frozen, horror and embarrassment warring for dominance on her face, Andy took several deep breaths as she blinked quickly. She was bent slightly at the waist, her arms crossed before her, hands grasping her elbows. Taking one more deep breath, Andy straightened, pivoted, and left. Emily smirked as Andy blew past the desk and walked quickly toward the restrooms.

* * *

><p>"Nigel," Andy said as she entered his office a few minutes later. "I need help. She hates me, and I don't know why."<p>

"And that's my problem because—oh, wait. No, it's not my problem." Nigel continued to review the marked up pages of the Book while Andy sat in a dejected heap. Looking up, Nigel's face softened. With a sigh, Nigel ran a hand over his bald pate and pulled his glasses off, wiping them with a silk handkerchief. "Andy, what did you expect? You know nothing about _Runway_ or what it represents, yet you presume to create sweeping changes that will empower Irv and undermine Miranda. Irv would like nothing better than to have ammunition to use against her, and you're giving it to him."

"I'm just trying to do my job, and, come on, Nigel, these recommendations aren't that bad." Andy ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know what to do."

"What is it that you want me to say to you, huh? Do you want me to say, 'Poor you. Miranda's picking on you. Poor you. Poor Andy'? Hmm? Wake up, sweetheart." Although the words were harsh, his expression was compassionate. He stared at her for several moments, a contemplative look on his face. "I do know one way to help you. Come with me."

Soon Andy's eyes were as wide as saucers as she received a crash course in all things haute couture. Her fashion knowledge consisted of Nine West, Coldwater Creek, and Ann Taylor. Nigel introduced her Chanel, Dior, and Donna Karan. After giving her several outfits from the Closet, Nigel led her to the beauty department for a haircut and cosmetics lesson. Her beauty show-cased by cutting-edge fashion and expertly applied make-up, Andy left the building to pick up what she hoped would placate Miranda.

An hour later, Andy carried a top-of-the-line Krups Coffee and Espresso Combination machine into the small kitchen area. This machine would fulfill all Miranda's coffee, espresso, and latte needs. Emily stood next to Andy and stared at the machine. "You can't be serious."

"Of course I am. Look, I worked at a Starbucks during college, and I can teach you everything you need to know to make her drinks. You and," Andy waved behind her toward the second assistant, "what's her name?"

"The other Emily," Emily answered smugly. Andy blinked.

"Right. Well, you'll both be fine. I can show you right now." With a sigh and roll of the eyes, Emily suffered through the tutorial. Soon she was able to make a perfect no foam skimmed latte with an extra shot without having to think about it.

"Don't think I like you, at all, just because of this. Or because you look passable in that Chanel. I don't. Not one bit," Emily declared.

Andy nodded. "Okay, but I like you." Emily huffed and walked away, latte in hand since Miranda had just arrived. She delivered it to Miranda, who did not question why it was not in a Starbucks cup or why Emily clearly had not just come from outside. She merely nodded and began to spout out the next list of tasks.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Miranda looked up when she heard movement. She watched, her mask firmly in place, as Andy approached her with a wrapped box.<p>

Andy placed the gift in front of Miranda, her hand shaking slightly. "This is for you." Miranda took the time to assess Andy, her stare starting from Andy's Louboutin-clad feet, up the well-proportioned black Armani business suit, above the swelling of firm breasts encased in an attractive plum silk blouse to a nervous smile and rounded eyes. Miranda raised an eyebrow as Andy filled in the silence. "It's nothing big, but…" she trailed off with a tremulous chuckle.

Extending her hand, Miranda took the present and unwrapped the box without a word, her expression neutral. A confounded look crossed her visage as she withdrew the present, but her face cleared so quickly, one would have missed her emotion if not watching closely.

In Miranda's hand was a large, cerulean blue coffee mug. Miranda read the words, "That's all." Although Miranda's lips twitched, she did not smile. Raising her eyes, Miranda waited. As expected, Andy filled in the silence.

"I know you are not thrilled with the coffee changes, but I thought that if you at least had your own special mug, it might make things more palatable—or, at least, the coffee. Um." Andy shifted from foot to foot.

Miranda nodded. "I am sure this mug will make the coffee taste much more palatable." The sarcasm was not lost on Andy, who seemed to wilt.

"Okay, well, I'll just," Andy pointed her thumb behind her as if she were hitch-hiking and was out the door without giving Miranda a chance to cast more insults.

"Emily," Miranda called quietly. When her assistant stood before her scant seconds later, Miranda said, "Fill this up for me," and handed the mug over. "That's all."

Once Emily left, Miranda lips turned up, and she shook her head slowly. Miranda turned her attention toward the magazines on her desk, not sparing a glance at Emily as she sat the steaming coffee in front of her. Miranda was perusing the last periodical when she heard a throat cleared. Only one person would dare.

"I like your cup," Nigel drawled while staring at it, his eyes bright. Miranda narrowed her eyes. She glanced at the mug, cocking her head as her eyes scanned the bold lettering showcasing, "That's all." Glancing at Nigel again, a crease of confusion formed between her eyebrows. Finally, she turned the mug around.

On the other side sat the words, "I am center-of-the-sun hot." Underneath were the words, "That's all." Miranda sniffed, unable to entirely hide her amusement.

"Let me guess—Andy gave that to you?" Nigel said.

Miranda removed her glasses and chewed gently on the end of one arm. "Mmm," she confirmed.

Nigel chuckled. "She really is something."

"Are you here for a reason, Nigel?"

"Yes. Here are the results of Monday's shoot in Central Park," Nigel began, relinquishing the photographs to Miranda. Evidently, social time was over.

* * *

><p>Andy worked in the outer office without speaking to anyone. Every so often, Miranda cocked her head a certain way which gave her a clear view of the brunette. Andy hunched over her laptop transcribing pages of messy notes. Her face, serious and sad, echoed loudly in the bustling office. Even Nigel's arrival did little to elicit more than a half-hearted smile in greeting.<p>

For days now, Andy remained tucked in a chair ignoring all that occurred. She did not rise to use the restroom, to eat, or even to drink the coffee that was always at the ready for those who wished to indulge. Instead, Andy remained in one place, not acknowledging anyone unless directly addressed.

It was unnerving.

Since Miranda's last verbal lashing, Andy had not interacted with the editor unless absolutely necessary. Instead, each day Andy arrived at _Runway_ and proceeded to observe, take notes, review the budget, and type in the outer office. Although everyone acted as if it didn't matter, it did. Andy's bright smile and happy voice had been effectively and ruthlessly doused by one Miranda Priestly.

A cup of steaming coffee placed in front of Andy interrupted her solitude. Emily stalked to her desk and flounced down with a huff. "Don't get any ideas. Miranda didn't want it." Andy stared at the redhead for a few moments before a small smile appeared.

"Thank you, Em," Andy murmured.

Miranda sat at her desk observing the exchange. She firmed her lips in a faint grimace.

"Emily."

The first assistant rushed into Miranda's office, pen and pad at the ready. "Schedule a viewing for James' new line for Tuesday morning. Confirm my lunch with Patrick on Monday. Get the latest results from yesterday's photo shoot from Nigel. Then you and the new girl can leave." Miranda looked back at her computer before saying quietly, "That's all."

Emily turned quickly, an incredulous look on her face. It was only 4:30. On a Friday.

Nigel walked into Miranda's outer office, photos in hand. Raising his eyebrows at Emily, he looked at Andy's down-turned head then back to the redhead. Emily shrugged. Before walking in Miranda's office, he sidled up to Andy. "Hey there, Sunshine. It's awfully cloudy around here."

Andy looked up and smiled wanly. "Hello, Nigel." The man gazed at her with a contemplative look.

"How about we meet for drinks tonight? I know I could use one, and it looks like you could, too." Slowly, Andy nodded her head. "Good. Meet me at Morrell's at eight." With a fleeting pat on Andy's arm, Nigel squared his shoulders and entered Miranda's office.

* * *

><p>Seated at a booth in the bar area, drink in hand, Andy lolled her head against the seat and sighed.<p>

"That bad, huh?" Nigel asked sympathetically. Andy opened one eye and stared at him incredulously. "Right. You're right. Why am I even bothering to ask?" He took a sip of his drink. "You know, it's nothing personal, Andy. She would act the same way with anyone in your position."

"Well, that makes it all better, then," Andy replied, sarcasm dripping off her words.

"Not better. But understandable. This is business. She's fighting to keep her job. She's more vulnerable now than she ever has been what with all the publicity about her divorce."

"I read about that. It sounds pretty ugly. But, Nigel, I'm trying to help her, help _Runway_, and she's taking every opportunity to slice me apart and grind me under her Prada heels." Andy looked away, idly watching people joking and laughing at the bar.

"Irv could use your reports to get her fired by showing that she has been overspending for years, that she is a detriment to the company. Last fall during Paris Fashion Week, he tried to remove her by staging a coup, which she barely defeated. He has been waiting to strike again ever since, and I'm sure he's planning to use this as his opportunity. You must know she will do everything in her power to make sure that does not occur. You, Sunshine, are caught in the middle. I've been there. It's not a pleasant experience." Nigel leaned forward, searching Andy's eyes. "You need to remember that it isn't personal. In different circumstances, she'd probably even like you."

Andy snorted. "Yeah, right. I can see her affection through every snide comment and humiliating insult she lobs my way. I just want to do my job. Believe it or not I've been doing this for several years—not twenty like her, but enough that I know what I'm doing. I can't help it if she doesn't like me or my recommendations. I've tried to learn about _Runway_, the way it works. I've tried to find out more about her and the reasons why she runs the magazine the way she does. At the end of the day, though, I have to do what's right, not what she wants me to do."

"Well, you're brave, I'll give you that. Or extremely foolish." Nigel lifted his glass. "Here's to you, kid. Let's hope you get out of this alive." They clinked glasses and swallowed their liquor companionably. Neither said another word about _Runway_. Even though there was so much more to say.


	4. Week 3

Week 3

Following the harried second assistant, Andy attempted to keep up as they entered the Donna Karan showroom to pick up dresses. She rubbed the back of her neck while observing the younger woman's interactions with the designer's assistant. Soon they were exiting the building with their burdens. By the time they reached Elias-Clarke, both of them carried enough items to make it hard for them to see ahead with ease. They wobbled with their burdens back to the office.

With a sigh of relief, Andy retired to "her" chair and got to work transcribing her notes and reviewing the numbers. Although she still did not attempt to speak to Miranda, her mood had improved noticeably after her outing with Nigel. She even offered coffee to Emily, who sniffed as she reached for the steaming cup. Andy merely had grinned.

Miranda glided out of the office as she ordered, "Coat. Bag." With barely a glance at Andy she said softly, "Andrea," and starting walking toward the elevators. After shooting Emily a confused look, Andy jumped up, grabbing her coat and purse before following.

"Don't get in the same elevator with her," Emily hissed. Andy nodded as she hurried toward Miranda.

Miranda donned her sunglasses as she entered the elevator. She glared at Andy before cocking her head in an obvious directive to get in. Andy did. Standing rigidly, the brunette stared at the numbers as they descended. Miranda subtly ran her eyes over Andy's outfit. She wore a camel-colored Chloé pantsuit with a navy silk blouse. Andy shifted uneasily as her eyes darted toward the silent editor then away.

Andy trailed Miranda in to the town car and then into the restaurant without receiving any indication of why she was present. Andy had planned to shadow the second assistant today and tomorrow, but obviously she would have to adjust her schedule. For the next hour, Miranda spoke to Patrick about the upcoming photo shoot in Africa for the fall line. Andy jotted down some notes while attempting to remain inconspicuous. She refused Miranda's odd offer of drink and food, not wanting to add to _Runway_'s expenses.

When Patrick rose to leave, Miranda surprised Andy by remaining seated. Instead she ordered a half carafe of wine and had the server pour a glass for Andy. Raising a glass and an eyebrow, Miranda waited for Andy to lift her own before imbibing.

"This is your last week, is it not?" Miranda asked.

"Yes. I have to submit the report this Friday. After that, I'll come in to observe once a month for six months to determine how the changes are working." Andy held her glass tightly with one hand while her other hand rested in her lap.

"What recommendations are you planning to submit?" Miranda stared at the consultant, as if daring her to evade her question.

"Uh, well, I haven't finished my review entirely. I have to finish looking through the financial statements and detailed budget documents over the next couple of days." Andy took a sip of the wine as her eyes swung to the tabletop.

"Surely you must have some idea, though, of what you propose to recommend," Miranda rejoined in her whispery voice. Andy nodded reluctantly.

"Well, y-yess. I do have some ideas, but I don't think it's a good idea—"

"No, no, no. I want to know what you are planning, and you are going to tell me right now." Miranda stared at Andy for several moments. "Tell me," Miranda said in a soft, forceful voice.

"You are not going to like it," Andy said, her voice shaky. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "But I really believe they will help your company, help you."

Miranda's barked an unpleasant laugh. "Oh, yes, I'm sure they will be extremely helpful. Go on. I'm waiting."

"Right. Well, the first set of recommendations has to do with discarding or reshooting a layout when you do not approve of the results you receive. That will have to stop. It costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. And although it may be warranted sometimes, it has become commonplace. You'll have to have it cleared to reshoot a spread." Miranda maintained a neutral expression as her finger circled the rim of her wineglass.

"What else," she intoned.

"Um, the hiring and firing of assistants. It taxes human resources just from the paperwork and interviewing process alone. Add to that the numerous lawsuits Elias-Clarke must fight and the many times it has agreed to cash settlements to avoid costly litigation, not to mention the time as well as the expense of training new assistants, and the cost becomes enormous. I am suggesting a three-month probationary period, at the end of which time you can fire or keep the person. No medical benefits will attach until after the probationary period ends." Miranda's facial expression still seemed indifferent, but her lips had firmed a bit more and an eyelid twitched just a bit.

"Continue," she directed.

"Okay. The next set of directives has to do with previewing upcoming fashion lines. Instead of traveling to them, I am suggesting they travel to you. The time and expense from traveling to and from the designers' showrooms add up. If they are coming to you, though, you'll have more time to devote to other duties, and the expense of gas, chauffeurs, and the like will be eliminated. To that end, you will have to set concrete preview times and not change them. I am recommending that you set aside specific days and times for run-throughs, previews, fashion shoots, and departmental meetings. It will save time and help your employees streamline their efforts." Miranda took a swig of her wine and set the glass down delicately.

"Anything else," she asked. Andy nodded.

"Yes. The location shoots." Andy gazed at Miranda earnestly. "They cost too much. You can go on location in areas that are much more economical. Like the African shoot. I am recommending that it be relocated to the Canadian Rockies. Banff would serve you well. These exotic areas you choose are not always necessary. That doesn't mean you can't always do so, but I'm suggesting that it be capped to three exotic locales per year with the rest in the United States, Mexico, or Canada, and the expenditures will be capped, too." Andy stopped when she saw Miranda place an elegant hand over her eyes.

"Miranda, I'm not making these suggestions to undermine you or to suggest that you are anything but fantastic at your job. However, I was assigned this account because my superiors believe I can help your organization. They have shown great faith in me. I wish you would." After several minutes of strained silence, Miranda straightened up and waved to the server for the check. She rose without commenting on Andy's recommendations and walked swiftly out of the restaurant. Andy scampered after her.

* * *

><p>"Andrea," drifted across the office. Andy looked up from the stack of financial reports toward Miranda's office. Hopping up, she stood before the editor scant seconds after the summons. "Are you free for dinner tonight?" Andy blinked in surprise. She gazed at Miranda who had her head tilted as she held one of the arms of her glasses near her lips.<p>

"Y-yes, Miranda. I am."

With a nod Miranda called for Emily. "Make reservations for two at Pastis at seven tonight. That's all." As soon as Emily left, Miranda returned her gaze toward Andy. "I assume you can find your way there?"

"Of course. Seven o'clock. Okay." Andy waited until Miranda redirected her intense gaze toward the contact sheets littering her desk before leaving the office.

For the rest of the day, Andy wore a puzzled expression as she waded through the financial reports for the last five years. She flipped back and forth, back and forth, comparing numbers, researching account numbers, and computing expenses. Some of the expenses were mysterious. She was determined to figure them out.

Although no other words were spoken between the two, others noticed the shift between consultant and editor, as if they had called a truce of some sort. Everyone knew not to question their good fortune. Instead they went about the business of producing the best fashion magazine in the world.

Seven o'clock came quickly. Andy arrived fifteen minutes early only to find that the editor was already seated. Andy sat down hesitantly. "Good evening, Miranda." The older woman ran her eyes over Andy slowly, allowing her lips to upturn in approval at what she saw.

"Andrea, Valentino hangs well on you," Miranda greeted her. Andy's eyes widened in surprise. Miranda's smile became more pronounced. Any response was stopped by the arrival of the waiter. The moment passed, and Andy chose to say nothing in response.

"I have deliberated on our last conversation," Miranda began after they had ordered their meals. "I do not think you are quite aware of how those recommendations can hurt the magazine, through no fault of your own. In fact, I never thought I'd say this, but I realize I may have acted a bit too harshly toward you." Noting Andy's surprised look, Miranda flitted her hand out as if unfurling a fan.

"You must understand that Irving has tried to remove me from _Runway_ for years. Last year he nearly succeeded. I have viewed this as merely another attempt for him to gather ammunition against me." Salads arrived, stopping Miranda's revelations.

They ate their salads in a companionable silence. When they were nearly finished, Andy said, "I'm sure you realized rather quickly that I knew nothing of the office politics. I certainly have no agenda other than to help your company save money and use your workforce as effectively as possible. Truthfully, I don't know how to make sure Irv doesn't use my recommendations against you and yet still do my job well."

"Mmm, well, I have some ideas about that. You leave that to me." Miranda stared at the younger woman appraisingly. "You are more than you seem. You have a way about you." Shaking her head, the editor sipped her wine as she continued to gaze at Andy. They fell into another silence as their entrees were placed before them. Neither seemed inclined to break it.

Eventually Andy said, "Miranda, I truly do admire what you have accomplished. I realize that probably doesn't mean much coming from me," Andy shrugged, "but I can easily understand why _Runway_ has prospered under your leadership." Her brown eyes reflected honest admiration. Surprised, Miranda's eyes shone brightly, a smile held in them although not allowed to cross her visage.

"Thank you, Andrea. That does indeed mean something."

By tacit agreement, they finished their meals while discussing topics outside of _Runway_. Although they took their time and drew out the meal with coffee, eventually it was time to leave.

"Do you need a ride home, Andrea?" Miranda asked.

"No. Actually, I live right down the street. Do you, do you want to come back for a nightcap?" Andy asked. Miranda stared at the younger woman before nodding. They walked two blocks without speaking. Although comfortable during dinner, a different energy now buzzed between them—something electric and expectant.

The apartment was neat and cozy. The entrance opened directly into a living room area sectioned off by a couch to create a dining area. A kitchen bar with stools was positioned across from a sink, stove, and refrigerator with white cabinets. Two rooms were attached off the dining room area—the bedroom and bathroom. Personal effects reflected a passionate, intelligent woman. A full bookcase, high-quality pottery, original paintings, and plush afghans adorned the main rooms.

Moving into the living room, the editor seated herself on a comfortable sofa, running her hand over the blanket hanging over the top of it. Andy moved toward the kitchen area only to return quickly with a chastised expression.

"Turns out I have no wine to offer, but there's a liquor store nearby. Why don't you make yourself comfortable, and I'll buy some?"

"There's no need to go to such trouble," Miranda began.

"It's no trouble. It won't take long. I'll be right back." Andy moved toward the door before Miranda could fashion a reply.

While Andy was gone, Miranda looked around more closely, even going so far as to wander around the apartment. Poking her head into the bedroom, she saw Andy's computer set up on a small desk against the wall. The screen became active when Miranda brushed the touchpad with her finger, showing the recommendations which were due the next day. All were exactly as Andy had revealed to Miranda at the beginning of the week.

Making a decision, Miranda sat down and emailed the report to her private email. After sending it, she erased all evidence of the email from the sent and deleted folders. Next, she revised the report in several keys places so that _Runway_ would not need to reduce their budget so drastically. After she was content with the changes, she emailed the new report to Andy's superior. Smiling grimly, Miranda sent that report to herself, too, before removing all traces of it from Andy's computer. When she was done, the original report sat on the computer screen exactly the way Miranda had found it.

Hearing the door, Miranda hurried across the hall to the bathroom, taking a few moments to freshen up before joining Andy.

"Oh. There you are," Andy said as she crossed to Miranda with a full wineglass. They clinked glasses and sipped. "I'm sorry I took so long."

"Don't think twice about it. I kept myself entertained," Miranda murmured as she returned to her seat on the couch. "You have a nice apartment, Andrea. Have you lived here long?"

"No, not terribly long. Um, I ended a relationship and needed to move." Andy looked around the room. "I like it here. It's cozy, and it's my space, my safe area where I can relax and just be me."

"Mmm. I can empathize. I'm sure you've heard about my divorce," Miranda sighed. "I will be much happier once that has concluded. It's not so much me—I don't really care about what anybody writes about me—but my girls. It's just so unfair to the girls." Miranda shook her head and looked away only to look back up quickly when she felt a comforting hand on her arm.

"I'm so sorry, Miranda." Andy's eyes reflected compassion and warmth.

"Thank you." Noticing Andy's nearly-empty glass, Miranda leaned forward and filled it. "To new beginnings," she toasted.

Each time the liquid in Andy's glass became low, Miranda topped it with more wine. Andy slouched back on the couch next to Miranda, shoes off and hair tousled from running her hand through it numerous times as they discussed everything and anything that came to mind. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Miranda Priestly?" Andy giggled.

"And if I am?" Miranda asked imperiously.

"I'd say you don't need to go to such lengths." Andy smiled broadly.

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," Miranda sniffed, but a smile ghosted her features, accentuated by sparkling blue eyes.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," Andy used both hands to carefully place her wineglass on the coffee table then she swayed toward Miranda gracelessly, just catching herself before she smashed into the silver-haired woman. "Oh! I have to send the report!" Andy jumped up, rocked on her heels, and plunked back on to the couch heavily. "Oops," she laughed. "I guess my balance is off."

Miranda placed her hand on Andy's knee to forestall her. "You already sent it, Andrea, about an hour ago. You mentioned how you hoped to get your promotion through it." Confusion danced through cloudy, brown eyes for several moments, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

"I do remember we were talking about it…are you sure?" Miranda raised her eyebrows and glared. "Oh, right. Okay." Andy smiled fully, eliciting a smile from the editor. Slowly Andy's smile faded as she continued to stare. "You are so beautiful," Andy said.

As Miranda sat frozen, Andy closed the distance between them. They kissed gently, hesitantly, but as the moments passed, they connected more firmly. Soon arms pulled each other close as faces tilted and lips opened to welcome a more intimate kiss. One kiss became two, then four, then more.

Trembling, Miranda gently pulled back, tucking her head into Andy's neck and breathing deeply. She moved one hand across Andy's back in soothing circles while keeping the girl flush with her body. After a time, Miranda heard deep breathing. She lifted her head to see Andy had fallen asleep in her arms. With a smile filled with remorse and sorrow, Miranda carefully laid the sleeping beauty on the couch, taking the time to place the afghan over her.

With one last look of regret, Miranda quietly left the apartment.


	5. Repercussions

_Repercussions_

For the next week Andy attempted to contact Miranda. All calls rolled to voicemail and remained unanswered.

Life continued at the _Runway_ offices as photo shoots, previews, and all the facets of running a successful magazine took precedence. Before anyone had quite realized it any more than to confirm that they were hitting all their essential deadlines, a month had passed, and a man appeared to determine whether the recommendations in place were being followed.

"Where is Andy?" Emily sputtered.

"I was sent to review your progress," the unknown man replied.

"And who, pray tell, are you?" Emily huffed.

"Mike Chipman. So, if you can provide me with the most recent financial reports and make yourself available to answer questions, I'd appreciate it."

"I will do no such thing. Not just anyone can come in here and obtain such sensitive information. I demand you have your company send Andy here immediately." Emily sat down at her desk and ignored the man.

Nigel entered the office, raising his eyes at the sight of a man, perhaps a bit over six feet tall in an ill-fitting suit and sporting a bewildered look on his face. He raised a folder to shield his lips as he mouthed to Emily, "Who's that?"

"That, I can't even talk about," Emily answered with a glare. Just then Miranda swept into the office, removing her coat and placing it with her purse on the second assistant's desk.

As Emily followed the editor into her office, Miranda said, "Who's that?"

"Nobody. Um, uh—the consulting firm sent him to follow-up with the recommendations, but I was just sending him on his way. I have no idea why they didn't send Andy."

Miranda had a shocked look on her face which quickly morphed into a disinterested expression. "Very well. Take care of it. That's all."

Soon, heedless of his objections, Emily had sent Mike on his way without the information he sought.

* * *

><p>"I tried to contact Andy, but her phone is disconnected," Nigel revealed in a low voice to Emily the next morning. Miranda, sitting at her desk, pretended to work as she listened.<p>

"Do you know where she lives? Maybe we should stop by," Emily said.

"Why, Emily, I had no idea you cared so much. She grew on you, didn't she?" Nigel teased.

"Like a fungus. Tonight?"

"Tonight."

Miranda looked up when Nigel entered her office. "Nigel, change the African shoot to the Canadian Rockies. Banff. Let me know if you have any problems with the shift." She looked back at her computer screen, not caring to witness his stunned expression.

"Right away. Here is the latest mock-up for the September issue." He passed it over while studying the woman. She had seemed out of sorts for the past month, withdrawn and sad. "Anything else?"

"Yes. From now on I am mandating that all previews will occur here. Let the designers know. I am going to work with Emily to block certain days and times for the run-throughs, previews, photo shoots, and departmental meetings. Once we have determined what will work best, we will inform everyone." She stared at Nigel for a moment before breaking their connection. "That's all," she murmured as she turned her chair toward the windows.

Miranda remained deep in thought for most of the day. Although no one quite understood what had shifted the dynamic in the _Runway_ offices, the feeling blanketed the editor-in-chief's offices so completely that each person who entered automatically lowered his voice and left quickly.

* * *

><p>Nigel couldn't keep the grin off his face as the door opened to reveal a stunned Andy.<p>

"Oh, my God. What are you doing here?" Andy exclaimed as she stepped aside to allow them to enter.

"Hey there, Sunshine," Nigel greeted her as he leaned in to air-kiss first one cheek, then the other. Emily copied the action, foregoing any verbal greeting. They looked around curiously. Half-filled boxes lined the far wall of a well-kept apartment. Nigel nodded his approval.

"What's with the boxes?" Emily asked abruptly.

"Oh, well, before we get into that, I was just about to order some Thai. Would you like to join me?" Andy invited.

"I think I could manage to hold some greasy, fattening food down this one time," Nigel said with a smirk.

Andy chuckled. "Thai food is neither greasy nor fattening, and you know it." She raised her eyebrows in question toward Emily.

"Very well. If I must. Where's the menu?" Soon they had ordered, and Andy opened one of several wine bottles stashed in the kitchen.

She sat in a comfortable chair perpendicular to the couch where Nigel and Emily sat. "So, are you moving to a new apartment?" Nigel opened after taking a sip of his wine.

With a sigh, Andy said, "No. I am moving back to Ohio if I can't get a job this month." Noticing their shocked expressions, she asked, "Didn't you know I got fired because of the _Runway_ report?"

"No. We had no idea. We couldn't understand why they had sent someone else to review our progress yesterday. That's why we are here," Emily said. Nigel frowned at the cynical laugh Andy emitted. It did not seem to jibe with the sparkling personality they had gotten to know.

"Right. Well, evidently, I failed utterly to fulfill my duties to cut the budget significantly enough to please our client. Irv threatened to blackball our company unless I was fired. As it is, he refused to pay for all the work we did." Andy shook her head. "I don't understand it. My recommendations were sound. I just, I don't know what went wrong. And now I am blacklisted in my industry." Andy shrugged. "My savings are running out. It looks like I'll have to go back to my hometown with my tail tucked between my legs."

Her sad look stirred something in Nigel. He had seen that look many times in the past month on a certain editor's face. Leaning forward, he patted her arm. "You give Uncle Nigel a couple of days. I'll come up with something for you. You aren't going anywhere."

The look of hope that entered Andy's eyes strengthened Nigel's resolve to get to the bottom of Andy's dismissal. He had a bad feeling it had everything to do with Miranda.

* * *

><p>Hearing the door to her office click shut, Miranda narrowed her eyes and watched as her art director sat down in one of the chairs located in front of her desk. "Nigel?" she questioned in a low voice.<p>

"Good morning, Miranda. How are you today?" Nigel said blithely.

"Don't you dare pull that polite tone with me. What is the meaning of this?" she gestured toward her closed door.

"Ah, yes. I couldn't help but presume you would not want anyone to hear our conversation." He raised his hand to stop her response. "Just let me say what I came here to say." He leaned forward. "Miranda, I may not be able to guess exactly what happened, but I know you had a hand in Andy's dismissal."

She gasped, "What are you talking about?"

Nigel firmed his lips. "Don't play coy. It doesn't suit you. Andy was fired from her job and blacklisted due to the report she submitted. If she doesn't secure a job this month she'll have to move to Ohio, for Christ's sake." He crossed his legs at the ankles in a deceptively relaxed pose. "I know you were fighting to save your job, Lord knows I was on the receiving end last year, but Andy wasn't a part of this industry. She didn't deserve this, Miranda."

They stared at each other. Finally, Miranda sighed and rolled her eyes. Drumming her fingers against her desk, she said, "She was fired." He nodded.

"Irv didn't even pay the consulting firm. He threatened to blackball them if they didn't cut Andy loose," Nigel said.

"That's, that's outrageous!" Miranda sputtered. Turning toward her phone she pounded the number keys forcefully. "Nancy, get me Donald. This is Miranda." After a pregnant pause, Miranda spoke into the phone once again. "Donald. How are you? And Melania? Yes, we'll have to meet for dinner soon. In the meantime, there is a woman in need of a job. She recently worked for a publishing consulting firm, but they have parted ways. Oh, yes, she is very good at what she does. I'm sure you could find a place for her. In New York. I'll send the information over immediately. Donald, I won't forget this. I owe you."

She sat silently staring at the phone while she tapped her lower lip with a finger. Nigel did not interrupt. Finally, she looked up. "Was there anything else?" She looked worn out, defeated, small.

"I know it's none of my business, but whatever happened between the two of you has hurt you, too. I suggest you contact her, Miranda. Life's too short, and you could do a lot worse than spending time with her." Nigel left without waiting for a reply.

* * *

><p>When Andy and Miranda finally crossed paths again two weeks later, Miranda could not contain the hunger that appeared in her darkened, blue eyes. Andy crossed to the editor's desk and threw a stack of paperwork down. "I can't believe you did this!" Andy hissed. She ran a hand through her glossy, long hair in frustration. "You emailed an altered report to save your own hide and got me fired. I never imagined you, I could never dream—"<p>

"Andrea, please close the door and sit down." Realizing she had shocked the younger woman, Miranda called out quietly, "Emily." When her first assistant arrived, she directed, "Hold all calls. We are not to be disturbed. And close the door. That's all."

Andy breathed deeply as if to calm herself before beginning again in a softer voice. "Just tell me why, why did you do this after we had spent time together? I thought, I thought you liked me. You led me to believe…" Andy's forlorn look prompted Miranda to answer candidly.

"I do like you. Very much. But _Runway_ is my life. I made the mistake of mixing my professional life with my personal feelings. What I did was despicable simply because you were an unwitting pawn." Miranda gestured toward the report. "Obviously, you found out that I switched the reports. I want you to know, though, that I have begun incorporating your ideas. In addition, I forced Irv to pay your former employer with the condition that they release to you the commission you would have earned if they had not fired you." Miranda waited while Andy digested the information.

"That's why I got that check," Andy mused to herself. She looked up. "Did you, did you have something to do with my new job, too?" Miranda smiled sadly.

"It was the least I could do. I'll understand if you cannot forgive me, but I wish you would. I enjoyed our dinner together. I'd like to do it again."

"You, you would? Really?" Andy stuttered. Andy shook her head, her face darkening like a summer storm as she jumped up. "This makes no sense! You say you like me, but you didn't hesitate to callously wine and dine me and then send a doctored report from my computer while I was stupidly running to the store to buy us wine. You made it personal, Miranda. Jesus!" Andy ran a hand through her chocolate mane as she stopped in front of Miranda's desk.

"Andrea. Let's look at this rationally. You have a better job, you got your commission, and I have incorporated your recommendations. I may have hurt your feelings, but, at the time, sending that report was my best option. Now that our business dealings have concluded, let's move on."

"Let's move on? _Let's move on?_ Miranda, what do you expect me to do? Just fall in to your arms now that the timing is more convenient for you?" Andy sneered as she crossed her arms and glared at the editor. "And why did you kiss me? Were you planning on seducing me so I'd change the report?"

A flash of guilt crossing Miranda's face verified Andy's guess.

"Oh, God!" Andy exclaimed as she threw her arms in to the air. "I can't believe this!"

Miranda blinked slowly. Anger seeped through her tone as she replied, "I have apologized. I have explained. I have asked for forgiveness. I have admitted my mistakes. If you do not know enough about me by now to recognize that normally I never, ever extend myself in such a way, then perhaps we have nothing left to discuss."

"Well, you know what, Miranda? All those actions are part and parcel of a relationship, so you better come to peace with them," Andy growled.

They stared at each other.

Slowly, Miranda smiled. "Are we in a relationship, Andrea?"

Andy rocked back on her heels. "Um, I, I didn't mean it that way. I am still very angry. I don't know what I'm saying."

"Give me another chance," Miranda requested softly. "I could have seduced you and enjoyed every moment, but I didn't. I realized, just a little too late, that I care about you. Let me prove it to you." Andy finally nodded and plopped on to the chair in front of Miranda's desk. "Thank you. So. Your new job."

"Right. I certainly can't complain. It's much better," Andy said.

"I would think so. Donald and I have enjoyed a long association," Miranda said. "Have you started there, yet?"

"Oh, yes. I got a call out of the blue two weeks ago and started the next day. Then yesterday I got the commission check. I called my old boss to find out why, and we got to talking about my dismissal. He actually offered me my old job back." Andy laughed.

Leaning forward, Andy sifted through the paperwork she had thrown on the desk and separated several pieces of paper. "Miranda, while I was reviewing all these financial documents to prepare my recommendations, I became puzzled by some withdrawals. I found something really interesting, something I think you may be able to use to protect your interests." Scooting to the edge of her seat, Andy bent further over the desk as Miranda leaned in to see where Andy was pointing.

"See here, here, and here? Look on these other pages—they have the same account number. It seemed odd. I'd never seen a US account with those routing numbers. After a bit of digging I found out that these deposits were made to an offshore account registered to a bogus corporation with only two directors: Irving and Louise Ravitz." Andy looked up at Miranda's gasp, smiling. "I get the feeling those transfers from _Runway_ monies were not authorized by you."

They were not so far away from each other. Both were leaning over the desk to read the small entries on the pages. The space between them was hardly insurmountable, hardly vast, hardly significant. So, it was a small matter to lean in just a bit more to meet in the middle.

This kiss promised absolution, forgiveness, new beginnings. It spoke of passion, longing, and regret. And when it finally ended, they did not need to discuss it. They did not need to determine whether this was the right road, the best road for them. Because they had already begun traveling it together weeks before.

"I assume you live at the same apartment?" Miranda whispered.

"Yes." Andy's eyes were clouded with lust. Miranda smiled softly.

"I'll pick you up at eight." Miranda leaned in once more to capture willing lips. "Until tonight."

* * *

><p>After a romantic dinner, Miranda invited Andy back to her home. "For a nightcap," Miranda smirked.<p>

Andy just shook her head. Once in Miranda's silver Porsche Boxster Spyder roadster, Andy said, "I really like your car. It's sexy, like you."

Miranda smiled wolfishly. "It has its charms," she said.

Andy covered Miranda's hand with her own, and they lapsed into companionable silence. It didn't matter that most of their relationship had been acrimonious. They knew the whys of their past behavior, of Miranda's past behavior, specifically. With that knowledge, Andy was able to forgive past grievances.

The townhouse, with its glamorous hardwood floors, antique furniture, and wealthy ambiance might have intimidated Andy in different circumstances. However, their evening had been filled with flirting and innuendo, touches and gazes that reassured her of Miranda's intentions. Much to Miranda's apparent amusement, Andy chose not to drink.

"Andrea, you need not worry. Unlike last time, I will not take advantage of you if you become inebriated."

"But, Miranda, you didn't take advantage of me last time," Andy disagreed.

"Oh, but I did, in the worst possible way. I betrayed your trust and got you fired, all to save my own job. Not my finest moment." Miranda looked out the window, her visage caressed by the soft lamplight.

"Miranda." Andy took the older woman's hand and kissed her knuckles. "It was just a job. I would have been much more upset if we had made love, and I hadn't been sober enough to remember. I don't want to miss a moment."

"Are you sure?" Miranda asked tenderly, now taking her turn to kiss the back of Andy's hand.

"Yes. Very sure. Take me to bed, Miranda. This is something we both want." Miranda rose swiftly, pulling Andy up with her. Wrapping her arms around the brunette, Miranda initiated a fiery kiss, one which left no doubt that she intended to explore Andy's supple body well into the night. She led Andy toward the staircase, pausing only to secure the locks and dim the lights.

Once in the bedroom, Andy took the lead, confidently revealing her body to an ardent gaze. Soon she stood naked, and Andy wasted no time in unbuttoning Miranda's shirt, unzipping her skirt, unrolling silk stockings, and dispensing of the lingerie. They stood staring at each other, not yet giving in to the desire to touch, to stroke, to love.

"You are beautiful, Miranda. I've wanted this so much." Andy reached out a shaking hand to glide over pronounced collar bones. Miranda shivered.

"Andrea, please." Miranda's eyes were so intense they seemed to penetrate into Andy's soul. Andy's breathing sped up as arousal overtook her ability to restrain herself. She reached for Miranda.

Andy took her time to explore Miranda's mouth. She caressed Miranda's tongue with her own for several moments, tangling and withdrawing as her hands roamed Miranda's back. The older woman's shortened breaths, low moans, and hands restlessly squeezing Andy's hips encouraged Andy to continue her ministrations.

Climbing on the bed, Miranda pulled the brunette on top of her. She searched Andy's eyes as her hands pulled the hot body tightly against her own. Groaning at the feeling, Miranda's closed her eyes. "Please," she whispered.

That was all the incentive Andy needed. She bent her head to open-mouth kiss Miranda's porcelain skin, forging a path down an elegant neck to the underside of a firm breast. "You taste so good," Andy crooned before taking a nipple into her mouth. Sucking firmly, Andy spent several minutes licking and pulling up with her lips on the reddened nub before switching to the other breast. Miranda's low moans and intermittent groans spurred Andy on.

As the younger woman began to move her hand down, Miranda wrenched Andy's head up for another kiss while rolling her onto her back. Miranda tilted her pelvis as she settled between Andy's legs, causing the younger woman to hiss at the intimate contact. Miranda set a slow, steady pace, rolling her hips forward and stroking Andy's tongue in sequence. Andy cupped Miranda's behind in her hands pulling her closer as the silver-haired woman sped up her gyrations.

"Don't stop," Andy gasped.

"I don't intend to," Miranda answered. She dipped her head to lick a breast, eliciting a low groan. "I love the way you sound, Andrea. An-dray-ahh."

"Oh, oh my God," Andy panted just before she climaxed. Miranda hit her peak just after, and they surged together, holding each other firmly.

Miranda slowed her movements but did not stop. Instead, she thrust slowly and firmly against Andy, who wrapped her legs around the older woman's waist wantonly. Miranda sucked on Andy's pulse point as she slipped two fingers into Andy's dripping channel. She groaned her approval. "You feel delicious, Andrea," Miranda said throatily. "So tight, so magnificent." After several thrusts, Miranda added another finger and sped up her rhythm. The noises Andy made, the grunts and groans, fed Miranda's excitement.

"Come for me, Andrea. I want to feel you pulling at my fingers. I need to feel you lose control—to know that I've made you feel this way." Miranda kept whispering encouraging words, sensually licking at Andy's ear and neck, before capturing those bewitching lips once more.

"Uh, uh, oh…Miranda!" Andy shouted. She thrust three fingers into Miranda and curled them as she pressed her thumb on the engorged clit. Miranda shrieked as her orgasm took hold, Andy quickly following.

Collapsing on top of Andy, Miranda panted. Both kept their fingers in place as they caught their breath.

"That was, that was incredible," Andy whispered.

"Indeed," Miranda gasped. She kissed the base of Andy's throat before moving to her side, effectively removing Andy's fingers from her. She withdrew her own fingers gently. "You have ruined me, you must realize."

"What? What do you mean?" Andy asked, worry clear in her voice.

"Isn't it obvious? I was a mess after you disappeared. Everyone noticed, although only Nigel dared mention it. And now that I've held you in my arms, well…" Andy's blinding smile slowly gentled into a sensual one as she ran a finger down Miranda's side. "It seems you are my strength and my weakness. What do you recommend?"

"I recommend we capitalize on these feelings by focusing on your talents," Andy murmured as she cupped a breast. "And institute the obvious solution to your problem by making sure I remain in your life."

"Hmm, I suppose that might be the best strategy. Of course, we will have to reevaluate this plan every so often."

"We will?" Andy searched smiling blue eyes, relaxing when she realized Miranda was teasing her.

"Oh, yes. Absolutely. In fact, we may end up spending quite a bit more time together conducting in-depth research to support this plan of action."

"If we must," Andy said with a mock-sigh. "Since I know how valuable your time is, we should start right away."

"Is that your official recommendation, Andrea?" Andy's kiss answered that question quite effectively.

The End.


End file.
